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  By the time she’d washed as best she could and made her way back to John, he’d moved the bodies.

  “Where?”

  “In the brush.”

  There were now two horses. Anna dubiously eyed the horse.

  “If you think I’m going to ride that, you’re out of your mind.”

  He patted the animal. “Never mind her. When we are safe at Blackmoor, I will teach you to ride.” He turned on the Mr. Hollywood smile. “I would not deprive you of my fine self. We will ride together.”

  John lifted her up on the horse. He was brown with a white spot on his ear, and he was softer than she’d imagined.

  “Whatever lets you sleep at night.”

  “Um?”

  “You have a big opinion of yourself.”

  “I am known and feared across England.”

  “And yet you ended up in the Tower of London.”

  “You have me there, mistress.”

  The feel of his body cradling hers had become comforting. As they rode she started to relax, the adrenaline rush leaving her tired.

  “Anna? Is there no war or killing where you come from in Florida?”

  “Yes, but it’s different. Normal people don’t go around killing other people.” How did she explain it to him? There were murders, suicide bombers, and other craziness, but nothing like this.

  Anna blurted out, “I’m from the future.” She sat there horrified.

  Chapter Twelve

  “There is a boy in the kitchens. Says he was sent to work in the stables and will not leave without speaking to you, my lord.” His steward sniffed. “Shall I have the guards throw him out?”

  Robert Thornton, Lord Highworth, was tickled to see his crusty steward in even more of a foul humor than usual. He tried daily to ruffle the man and a mere boy had accomplished what he could not? Most curious. “I will see the boy.”

  It took a moment for Robert to regain his footing. He’d drunk to excess last night. And the night before and the night before that. He wiped the sweat from his brow. It was good to be back home. The past fortnight he’d agreed to Edward’s demands and visited a handful of eligible maidens. Found none to his liking and proceeded to drown out their shrill voices with drink. One was too tall, one too short, and one laughed like a dying pig. He shuddered thinking on hearing such a dreadful sound every day for the rest of his life.

  In truth, he had no desire to marry. He planned to spend his days drinking, wenching, and wagering on the most foolish things. With no vexing wife to shriek at him from morn to night.

  In the kitchens, he found a boy so dirty it was difficult to determine the color of his hair beneath the grime. Robert detested filth. His brothers teased him for how often he bathed.

  “You have a message for me, boy?”

  The boy blinked. “You look just like him.” Then, realizing he was in the presence of a noble, he pushed back from the table and stood up straight.

  “I am good with horses, my lord. I was told I would find a place in your stables.”

  The boy hungrily eyed a platter of food one of the serving girls carried out to the hall.

  “What is your name?”

  “Rabbie, my lord.”

  “We Thorntons care naught for titles. I am Robert. Sit and fill your belly.” Robert heaped the plate high with food and slid it across the table. The greedy manner in which the child ate made him wonder when the boy had last tasted a decent meal.

  “How long have you been traveling?”

  “A month. I had no horse, so I walked all the way from London.”

  “Who said you would find a place here?”

  The boy looked up at him, a fearful look on his face. “I canna remember.”

  Robert narrowed his eyes and leaned across the table.

  “Do not lie to me. Tell me the truth or I will lock you in my dungeon until you are an old man. There are rats down there. They feast on small children.”

  Rabbie gasped. “Truly?”

  Robert’s lip twitched. The boy looked more interested than fearful.

  “Then I shall feed you to the pigs.”

  “’Twas a man said you needed someone good with horses.”

  “I know the secret you carry.” Robert leaned against the wall, one booted foot crossed over the other. He looked down, flicking a speck of dirt off his tunic. The boy was watching every movement, so Robert casually rested a hand on his sword.

  The rigors of the journey caught up to the boy as his face crumpled. “How could you? I swore,” he whispered.

  This was much better. What was Edward up to? He was like an obstinate woman. He snorted.

  “I swear all the time. This secret came from the man who looks like me but not as handsome.”

  Eyes huge, Rabbie put his head on the table. “I said I would not tell. He said it would keep you safe. Why would he tell you?” The boy’s eyes leaked, leaving tracks in the dirt on his face and puddling on the clean table.

  “Out with the tale.”

  “You won’t truly feed me to the pigs?”

  “Nay. Speak, boy. I needs be sure you are truthful before I tell you what I know.” And this was why he won more wagers than he lost.

  The boy stared at his plate for a long time, sniffling and wiping his eyes. When he regained his composure, he directly met Robert’s gaze.

  “Your brother sent me. I didn’t know he was your brother for all those years until he told me in the tower, where I visited him.”

  What the bloody hell? “The Tower of London. Where my brother is held. Continue.”

  He’d heard no news. Surely the boy was mistaken.

  “We always called him Robin. It wasn’t until I visited him in the tower he told me his real name.” The boy took a deep breath.

  “He said you believed him dead. But he is not. He is the bandit of the wood. Your brother, John Thornton.”

  Robert leaned into the wall, unsteady. He poured a cup of wine and drained it.

  The boy blubbered. “You tricked me. You did not know.” He wept. “I have failed him. I swore I would not tell.”

  Robert strode to the table and patted the boy on the back. He went sprawling on the floor. Not very hearty, this lad. He reached out a hand and helped the boy to his feet.

  “’Twas wicked of me. John will understand.” Robert smiled, not letting Rabbie see how much the news distressed him. “No one can resist the Thornton charm or the threat of my pigs.”

  The boy slid him a narrow look. “He will die an awful death.”

  So much made sense. John was alive. Robert and his brothers would remedy whatever had happened. His older brother was the bandit of the wood. He could scarcely believe the boy but for the truth on his face. Robert heard Lord Denby had found favor with the king. His gut told him Denby was responsible for his brother’s current accommodations.

  “John will not die.” Robert paced back and forth across the kitchen, his head aching. “You have a place here in the stables. I must dispatch messengers to my brothers. Go and bathe, then come to my solar and tell me the tale from the beginning, when you first met John.”

  “You want me to wash? ’Tis bad for the humors of the body.”

  Robert threw his head back and laughed. “Everyone at Highworth Castle bathes.”

  The boy wrinkled his nose, seeming to have second thoughts. Robert barely resisted the urge to scare him again.

  “Go. When you come back clean, I will see you have something sweet to eat.

  “Featherton,” he bellowed.

  The man looked down his nose. “My lord?”

  “Send the wenches back to the village. I must send messages to my brothers.”

  “Shall I send all three back?”

  His steward did not approve of Robert’s appetites.

  “Yes, all of them. I have much to think on.”

  “As you wish, my lord.” The man turned on his heel and glided out of the kitchen.

  Chapter Thirteen

  John was so taken abac
k he pulled her off the horse and stood facing her. To watch her face. Though for the moment he simply blinked at her like a dolt.

  “The future?” He choked on a bug, realized his mouth was hanging open, and shut it with a snap. The woman was daft. “Perchance there is someone at the tower who is missing you.”

  She stuck her tongue out at him. “Hilarious. I’m not crazy.”

  He looked her over. The clothing she wore was unlike any he had ever seen. Lasses did not wear hose as she did. Hers were a dark blue and molded to her plump backside. Every moment they rode, he was aware of her nestled into his thighs.

  “Can you prove this outlandish claim?”

  She narrowed her eyes at him. “No. I lost my phone and wallet when I traveled through time.”

  “How did you travel through time? In one of your horseless carriages?”

  Against her will, he saw the smile. She stood with her hands on her hips trying to scowl. “No. But you’re doing better with the whole sarcasm thing.” The wind caught her hair, blowing it across her face. She spat it out.

  “Spinach fudge.” Anna held up a hand. “I recognize that look. Fudge is a type of sweet, so no one in his or her right mind would put spinach in it. I don’t curse like you. I like to make my own words.”

  “Ah. Sarcasm?”

  “Like mocking. Do you have a ribbon or piece of string?”

  He poked through the sack holding their belongings and came up with a dingy piece of string.

  “Will this do?”

  She snatched it. “Perfect.”

  ’Twas an act he thought should only be performed in front of her husband. He wanted to haul her to him and kiss her senseless as he watched her braid her long hair, the tip of her tongue in the corner of her mouth as she went about her task.

  “Much better.” She bent down, picking a flower. “I don’t know how I fell through time. I was walking through the tower and went into your cell. There was a storm and lightning. When I woke, there you were.”

  “What year did you come from?”

  “Now you will think I’m crazy. It was 2016.”

  Six hundred and seventy-five years. “Nay. ’Tis not possible.”

  “And yet here I am.”

  He had to sit down in the grass before he fell down. John had seen many strange things in his thirty-two years, but none such as the woman in front of him. Though there was something about her…the way she spoke that reminded him of someone.

  “Tell me of this future. Who is king?”

  “America doesn’t have a king. Or a monarchy. We have a president. Here in England, a queen is on the throne but the monarchy no longer has the power it does now.”

  “A queen on the throne? I should live to see such a sight.”

  “She’s a good ruler. The carriage I told you about? It’s called a car. Made of metal and requiring no horses. It moves on its own.”

  “What do you feed this metal beast?”

  “Something called gas or electricity. You can travel hundreds of miles in a single day.”

  His mouth dropped open again. “Nay.” To see such wonders.

  “And we can fly.”

  He looked at her shoulders.

  “I don’t have wings. We climb aboard a plane, a metal flying bird, and can travel from England to France in less than an hour.”

  John felt faint. He could not imagine such doings.

  “Men have walked on the moon.”

  He looked to the heavens. “Anna. You must never tell anyone what you have told me. Many would burn you for a witch or lock you away, sure you are mad.”

  “Why do you think it’s taken me so long to tell you? Do you believe me?”

  “I…I want to believe you.” The truth was in her eyes. She believed she came from the future. Mayhap she was mad. It would make life simpler if she was mad. The future. The marvels she spoke of, no wonder she wanted to go home.

  He stood, swayed, and looked to the sky again. Men flying through the air. “We have tarried overlong.”

  “Thank you for listening. I know I sound crazy, but I swear on my dad, I’m telling you the truth.” She let him lift her onto the horse. “My dad needs me. I have to get home.”

  He needed time to think. “Is there aught else you would tell me?” Heaven help him if she said yes.

  “No. Isn’t that enough?”

  “Saints be, ’tis more than enough.”

  It would be dark in a few hours. As they rode, he thought what it would be like if she were his. If she was mad? He still wanted her.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Each day they rode, Anna admired the scenery and hoped they would find someone to purchase a hot meal from. In her own time, she was inside a lot. Working three jobs did that, so at first all the time outdoors was fun. After several days it became monotonous and she dreamed of cars and trains. Being on a horse all day was very different from being on her feet all day.

  At night they slept wrapped up in blankets on the ground after a meager dinner. The night before, when they slept in a barn after a hot meal, it had rivaled staying in her hotel in London. The days passed and the landscape changed. Fog rolled in. Anna kept imagining werewolves running across the creepy moors.

  She didn’t date much, had never spent so much time alone with a man. No distractions of any kind. There was something to be said for no phones. They had time to really get to know each other better. He told her how he became the bandit, and some of his funnier adventures. Like the carriage they held up thinking they would find gold inside. Instead the woman inside had two pigs with her, both wearing jewels and dressed up.

  Being an outlaw explained why he knew the men he killed were lying. At least since that terrible experience happened almost two weeks ago, they hadn’t run into any other thieves. And still no sign of the men chasing them. She hoped they’d gotten tired of the chase and gone home.

  “Won’t the king send men to your home? Wouldn’t it be the first place they look for us?”

  “I lived there a long time ago. The men would not think me so daft as to go home. ’Twill buy us time to find somewhere safe.”

  What was that smell? It had been with them since yesterday. She sniffed the horse. No, he smelled like a horse. Leaning back, she turned her head and smelled John. Yuck. He was part of the bad smell, but not all of it. No. It couldn’t be.

  Discreetly, she lifted her arm, playing with her hair. Anna turned her head and sniffed at her armpit.

  “This is worse than a pool full of alligators. I stink.”

  The rumble behind her made Anna flinch.

  “I said that out loud, didn’t I?”

  He chest vibrated against her back, but to his credit he didn’t laugh out loud.

  “Aye. You smell fine to me.” He purposely sniffed at her. “Forgive me. We are almost to Blackmoor. I will find you something more suitable to wear.”

  She was prevented from answering as it started to pour just like an afternoon thunderstorm in Florida. The clouds hung low, silver against the gray sky. If she were warm and dry in a train or a car, she would appreciate the storm. The scene was one of rugged beauty. Lonely and windswept. The word melancholy came to mind.

  Anna laughed hysterically. “All we need now is for Heathcliff to ride across the moors.”

  His breath was warm against her ear.

  “I know no one named Heathcliff. The moors can be dangerous. The ground treacherous, the bogs deadly. Do not make your way through them alone.”

  Could the man read minds? She’d been trying to pay attention, mark rocks or other signposts along the way. As good as she was with directions, she had to admit it looked dangerous. The horse shook his head, nervous, but John kept a firm grip on the reins and guided the beast through the storm. How he could see the trail was beyond her. All she could see was mud. And then something loomed in the distance, making her shiver.

  “That’s a castle.” She twisted in the saddle to look at him. “You didn’t tell me you lived in a castle
.”

  “Does it make a difference?”

  “I guess not. Certainly didn’t expect a big, honking castle.” The rain chilled her, or maybe it was the monstrosity in front of her. Talk about the perfect backdrop for a horror movie.

  “Blackmoor Castle has been in my family a long time. ’Twas given to me by my father.” She heard the laughter in his voice. “’Tis rumored to be haunted. Though I never saw a spirit.”

  “Oh, great. Like that’s supposed to make me feel better.”

  Some long-forgotten lecture from history class, or maybe from a book she’d read back when she actually had time to read, popped into her head.

  “Wait a minute. You said your name is John Thornton. Shouldn’t you be Lord Blackmoor or something fancy?”

  After spending twenty-four hours a day, every day, for the past two weeks with the man, she heard the sadness in his voice. Given her job, she was good at reading people. Could tell who would tip and who wouldn’t. Who would skip out on the check and who would be a total pain in the butt.

  “Nay. I haven’t been Lord Blackmoor in a long time. When my lands and gold were confiscated, my title was stripped from me. My older brother, Edward, won back the castle. It has been empty ever since.”

  He shifted in the saddle. She felt the tension radiating off his body. The stiffness of his legs and body against her own.

  “Prepare yourself. Blackmoor may be in need of repair.”

  “It can’t be any worse than sleeping outside on the ground. At least we’ll have a roof over our heads to shelter us from the rain.”

  As the looming stone fortress grew larger, a twinge of jealousy burned through her. He was only nine years older than her, yet he owned a freaking castle and had a bag of gold. She worked a full-time job and two part-time jobs, and still Anna could barely make ends meet after paying the memory care facility fees. To have her own place. Know there was enough money to ensure your security. No more worries. Then she felt like a brat. Here she was being a green-eyed monster, and if he was captured, he’d die for committing treason. In her whole life, she’d never even had a parking ticket.